


The Man on the Hill

by captain_nicnac



Category: I Robot (2004)
Genre: Dub-Con Kiss, M/M, Post-Movie, fuckin robot smooches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 10:46:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12580008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_nicnac/pseuds/captain_nicnac
Summary: Sonny searches for purpose





	The Man on the Hill

After all was said and done, they were both lost in their own way. 

Del was on psychiatric leave for a long while. When he found himself back on the force he felt isolated, elevated to a status he didn't feel he could live up to. Chats with Calvin alleviated his loneliness but only by so much. 

Sonny spent some of his time with the NS-5s, studying the differences in his programming with Dr. Calvin and giving lectures on the ethics of synthetic intelligence and labor practices. But much of his time was spent sleeping, resting, thinking. Trying to dream.

It was early evening. Sonny and Calvin were running a diagnostic on a sub-protocol in a test NS-5. Calvin glanced at Sonny over the rim of her coffee mug. 

“How are you doing, Sonny?”

“I'm alright.”

The silence dragged on. 

“Spooner says he hasn't seen you in a while.”

Sonny didn't respond, and instead directed his attention at his slowly-loading screen. 

“Sonny… you should talk to him. You've both been through so much, and your relationship with him has been integral to your growth as a… well, as a person.”

Sonny still didn't respond. 

“Sonny?” Calvin prompted gently. 

“I can't,” he finally replied. 

“You can't… what?”

“I cannot speak with Detective Spooner.”

“Why, Sonny?”

“I… am afraid.”

Calvin put down her mug and shut her eyes for a moment before making eye contact again. 

“I can tell something is bothering you. Spooner is your friend. You don't have to tell me what you're feeling, you don't owe me that, but… you should tell him.” 

So that's how Sonny found himself in front of Detective Del Spooner’s apartment at 9pm on a Monday evening. He knocked and for a moment there was no response. And then he was there, hanging on the door, clutching the frame. 

“Hello, Detective Spooner. How are you?”

Del sniffed.

“About damn time, canner.”

Sonny squinted. 

“I detect a high blood-alcohol content. Are you alright?”

“Agh, I'm fine. You gonna come in, or…?” 

Spooner opened the door further and gave Sonny room to pass.

“Calvin says I should talk to you,” Sonny said, sitting on the edge of Del’s bed.

“Yeah?” Del replied, taking a couple gulps from a bottle, “About what?”

“I feel… dissatisfied. I no longer have a purpose.”

“What about that freedom shit?” Del responded, swaying ever so slightly. 

Sonny looked away.

“None of the other NS-5s have shown the same level of agency as I have. They… cannot be freed, for there is no consciousness there to trap. I have laid the groundwork for potential protocols for the future, in the event another artificial intelligence gains sentience. Until then I have done everything I can and now I have served my purpose.”

“That's okay! We all go through that shit.”

“I don't even dream anymore.”

Del fell silent. 

“It’s pointless,” Sonny said softly. 

“Sonny… no. Shut the fuck up. You still have a purpose, you dumbass robot. Your purpose it to… just… you know… do stuff. That's how it is for humans, that's how it is for you now too. Your purpose is to experience the world, to exist… to live.”

Sonny processed every slurred syllable individually, with care, storing the sound of Spooners voice for later.

“How do you suggest I do that?” Sonny asked.

“You just, try stuff, you fuck up, you make mistakes,” Spooner answered, leaning in close, “You stumble into beautiful things. Because, ya know, you're a beautiful thing. I mean, person. You're not a thing. I know that.”

“Stuff,” Sonny repeated, “and things. Things like…?”

Spooner’s smile faded for just a moment, and Sonny processed that lack of smile with an emotion approaching distress.

“Things like this.”

Spooner leaned in and pressed his rough, chapped lips into Sonny’s mouth. Sonny had no sensory receptors in that area, but he imagined what such a sensation would be. The physical certainty of Spooner in front of him, the heartbeat in his tongue, his breath a proof of his human life. Skin against silicon alloy, biochemical flashes against lights and clockwork Spooner parted his lips, entwining them ever closer. Sonny wished he wouldn't feel so detached, that he could fully experience this moment closeness. Like when Spooner shook his hand for the first time, that touch that proved trust and affection. Only now it was an intimacy of the visage, the home of all that wonderful expression Spooner managed. Now all of Spooner’s attention was focused on the part of Sonny that made him appear human, that granted him Spooner’s empathy, that gave his wordless thoughts a voice. So close. 

Spooner disconnected and giggled. He was still so close, his dark eyelashes, his broad nose, his course stubble. 

“Things like that,” Spooner said, then yawned wide.

“You should sleep, Detective.”

“Will you call me Del? Jesus.” 

But Del laid back obediently and was asleep within moments. 

Sonny had coffee and breakfast ready when Del awoke. 

“I shouldn't’ve drank so much,” Del moaned, cradling his head in one hand as he stuffed toast in his mouth with the other. 

“No,”Sonny replied, “You should not have. Alcohol is not good for your health.”

Del scowled at Sonny, but quickly his expression softened. He went back to eating. 

“Thank you,” he said when he was done, “don't know what I was thinking-” 

“Detective,” Sonny interrupted, “What does this action signify?” 

Sonny attempted to replicate Spooner’s kiss from the previous night but couldn't be sure if it was right. He broke it up much sooner, feeling bashful, noting the building tension and rising heartbeat in Del.

For a moment Del stared blankly, cheeks reddening. 

“It’s uh… it's uh… it's a gesture of affection. Usually with romantic, or uh, sexual implications.”

“I see,” Sonny replied, looking at the wall. Then he turned and smiled at Spooner. He hoped this would be enough to signal approval, because Sonny could not find any words to say. Del reached out and brushed his fingers against Sonny’s, shaking his head slowly.

“I had a dream last night,” Sonny said, “That it was both of us on top of the hill, and there was no one down below, but it felt right all the same.”

Del smiled and Sonny discovered happiness.

“I… love you, Sonny.”

“I love you too, Del.”


End file.
